Stolen Lives
by BlackBlade0001
Summary: During his search for the Horcruxes Harry finds something else, with the potential to become either a great asset or a great threat. Ancient Spirits, Forgotten History, Shadows and a crazy twist to his life is what it brings. Slash. Rated for violence.
1. Prologue

**Stolen Lives**

**Summary:** During his search for the Dark Lord's Horcruxes, Harry finds something else, something with the potential to become either a great asset or a great threat. Ancient Spirits, Forgotten History, Shadow Magic and an all about crazy twist to his life is what this young wizard will have to deal with. Slash. Rated for Violence.

Chapter 1: _Prologue_

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_He saw it all. He watched from his little balcony, unable to tear his wide and frightened eyes away from the horrifying scene unfolding right in front of him, and equally unable to do anything about it. Not for the first time he cursed the blasted Pharaoh – wishing the infuriating man an end at Ammut's jaws – for confining him into this room, locked and warded by said Pharaoh himself and his little court of mindless minions. He was powerless now, helpless and doomed to only watch and do nothing about it at all._

'_Why? Why did he do this? What does he care if I fight, if I die?' His thoughts came in angry waves of irrational anger and worry._

_It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair that everyone else was getting to do something, to actually help defeat a common enemy while he had to just sit there, worried out of his mind, and watch as everything he ever loved crumbled down to ashes._

_And then it happened. _He_ fell. He fell and didn't get back up and all the poor little prisoner in the balcony could do was scream in agony and sorrow at the heavens that would offer no solace or comfort to his broken heart and shattered soul. He cried then, shed tears that the world had not seen since he was a very young child, and cried until he could no more._

_Why, why, why, why, why?_

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_He went down to the battlefield only minutes afterwards, finally freed from his gilded cage when the Pharaoh's magic vanished into nothingness. He looked through the debris, frantically trying to find him. Crumbling rock, shattered wood and still burning materials were forcefully moved out of his way, and his hands were bleeding and torn after so much rough work, but he was determined to do this, determined to find him if it was the last thing he did._

_Finally, after what could surely be no sooner than a lifetime, when the fires that threatened to destroy what little was left had been long since put out and the people who cried over lost material goods and loved ones were long since gone, he felt it, the pull at his soul that could come from no other than him. He moved faster than he had ever in his life and pulled a crumbling piece of wall away, revealing the treasure underneath._

_It was a beautifully crafted piece of golden jewelry, adorned with the Eye of Wadjet right in its center, thankfully unscratched even though it should have been crushed by the heavy stone, and gleaming strangely in the sunset light._

"_I found you" He spoke, his voice full of love and adoration that no one could possibly feel for just an object, regardless of its value._

_But this was no mere object, this was an Item…and it no longer was just that, either._

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_It was a week after the tragedy and he finally had everything ready. _

_He had been forced to run away the very moment after he found the Item, too paranoid and worried that whatever remained of the court would come for him, to chain him and bind him in a way that he would soon be wishing for death. He wouldn't let them! He wouldn't lose the freedom they had both worked so hard to obtain. Not now, not ever._

_He sighed, ridding himself of ugly thoughts as he stepped into the circle of strange symbols, carved in stone and painted in blood…his own blood. He was weak now, due to the blood loss from having to donate so much of his life-liquid for his last resort project, but he would not let that weakness bother him._

_As soon as he stepped into the center, he chanted a few words and raised his arms as though in prayer. The symbols lit up, the light coming from them was the very same blood-red hue they had before, but somehow much more frightening. Slowly, the symbols painted on his naked skin also lit up, first the ones on his legs and at last the one on his forehead._

_The chanting grew louder, and outside of his little hidey-hole he could hear the wind pick up, sending sand crashing everywhere and threatening a sandstorm. He didn't pay any mind to the outside world though, too busy and focused with what went on within. _

_The sound of his own voice increased volume almost exponentially until finally he could speak no more, his throat bloody and raw, and the wind stopped just like that, the sand it had carried falling to the floor like little droplets of water. _

_The almost ethereal silence lasted for all of one second before a blood-curling, gut-chilling screech pierced the calmness of the night. His throat protested the action, still too hurt from the loud chanting and continual crying of the last few days, but he didn't pay it any attention, he couldn't for his mind was much too busy with the pain. _

_It hurt. It hurt much worse than anything that had ever hurt him in his entire life put together. It felt like knives were peeling his skin away at the same time it was pierced by needles, rough sand being rubbed in the exposed muscles and blunt daggers cutting into the bloody flesh, clubs of stone shattering his bones to dust and merciless claws cutting his innards into tiny little pieces. It fucking _hurt_!_

_Then the darkness started to creep in and, just when he thought the pain would go away and he would be in peace at last, the hurt increased. It was nothing like he could have ever imagined, the feeling of cold hands digging into his very core to rip away his innermost part: his soul. _

_That was when the darkness finally covered it all, taking away the pain and the hurt and every other feeling that he could have ever felt, and he knew peace. The last thing he saw before his eyes closed for the last time was the little piece of golden jewelry lying innocently next to him, inside the circle. Not an Item, but, to him, equally as valuable._

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The boy woke up with a gasp, lifting half of his body violently away from the cot he had gone to sleep in last night. His breath was coming in pants and his whole body was plastered with sweat, he could still feel it sliding down his head and lifted a hand to wipe it away, absentmindedly rubbing the lightning bolt-shaped scar that adorned his forehead.

Usually whenever a nightmare struck him he could just blame it on the trice-cursed scar, but not now, not with _these_ nightmares. There was no possible way that these dream could come from Voldemort, of that he was pretty sure.

To start with, the Dark Lord didn't feature as his main tormentor during the dreams, which is something that he rather doubted Voldemort could resist doing. Secondly, the setting was just too strange, too different from anything he had ever seen and he was convinced that old snake-face didn't have the necessary imagination to send him visions of these places and those people. Last of all, why would he do it?

Sure, Harry was in a lot of pain during a few parts of the dreams, but it didn't last all that long and not _all_ the dreams were horrible. Sometimes he dreamt of peaceful times, when the people in that strange, different place were happy and carefree. He dreamt of someone who loved him and treasured him above anything else. He also dreamt of freedom, of being able to do as he liked and having to bounds or limits to hold him back, and the one who loved him was right there by his side, laughing with him, being free together.

The young man sighed tiredly, resigned to spending the rest of the night awake and going over every detail of his little nightmare over and over again. Still, he had to at least try and sleep some more, since tomorrow the tiresome search for the Dark Lord's Horcruxes would continue and it was hard enough to do without being a half-asleep zombie.

He would worry about his dreams some other time. He had the feeling though that whatever those dreams were, they were trying to tell him something, and that something was very important.

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**Author's Notes:** Again, I blame those infinitely persistent, Ra-damned stubborn, brain-burrowing, loud little plot bunnies! They wouldn't leave me alone about this idea, making it appear in my mind every time I so much as closed my eyes! Didn't let me focus on anything else! *starts to hyperventilate*

Okay, okay…calm now. So, anyways, the idea seemed good enough to write a story to me so let me know what you think about it. This is only the epilogue though, so the really interesting parts are yet to come.


	2. Stolen Horcrux

**Stolen Lives**

**Summary:** During his search for the Dark Lord's Horcruxes, Harry finds something else, something with the potential to become either a great asset or a great threat. Ancient Spirits, Forgotten History, Shadow Magic and an all about crazy twist to his life is what this young wizard will have to deal with. Slash.

Chapter 2: _Stolen Horcrux_

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The hunt for the Horcruxes had finally bore some results after what seemed like weeks of failed attempts in research and a frustrating lack of findings. The discovery had been mostly by accident, curiously enough. It turned out that the mysterious R.A.B. was none other than Regulus Arcturus Black, Sirius' younger brother.

Having found out the identity of the man who had been brave – and possibly foolish – enough to steal a Horcrux all that was left was find the location of the real locket and then they would have one Horcrux down and several more to go. The thought might be a little depressing to some, but to the three teens it was the best news they had heard in ages.

And so it was that they were now trying to find any clue of the location of the stolen locket that might lead them to the bloody thing. Already they had searched the entire house with no results and now their options included searching through the dead man's old room or asking Kreacher and Harry very much did not want to ask that barking old elf.

And speaking of…

"You could just stop being stubborn and ask Kreacher. We are not going to find anything here and you know it Harry" Hermione's lightly reprimanding voice broke through the monotonous silence that had befallen the trio.

The black-haired teen just sighed and pointedly ignored her, focusing his attention on the contents of the desk drawer he was currently rummaging through. He heard her annoyed huff and knew that she would drop the subject…for now, so he went back to his very much pointless search, which turned out to not be quite so pointless at all.

He had emptied the whole drawer during his little childish lapse of ignoring of his bushy-haired friend and now that he was paying his full attention to it, he noticed a crack at the very bottom of it. Normally it would not have interested him at all, since the whole house and its furniture were in pretty bad condition and all, but through the rather wide crack he could only see blackness instead of the green-carpeted floor that was beneath the drawer. With his curiosity now awoken, he pocked the bottom and watched as the thin piece of wood fell down to reveal another compartment once hidden behind the now obviously fake bottom.

He lifted the broken pieces of wood and dug into the newly revealed space, bringing out a black leather bound book. As soon as he opened it he knew that if there was any clue at all about what happened to the Horcrux it would be in this book, Regulus' old journal.

"Oi! I found something!" He called to the other two.

Almost immediately Ron and Hermione approached to look at his findings, peeking over one of his shoulders each, faces eager and curious. He opened the book and flipped the pages, looking for the last few entries, written right before the young Death Eater turncoat died and making a mental note to read the rest at a later time.

His green eyes roamed the pages, taking in the neatly hand-written words at a surprisingly fast rate for someone who enjoyed reading as little as Harry did, trying to find something that might catch his attention. No more than a few moments paused before his eyes widened in surprise and, for some strange reason, his pulse quickened all of the sudden.

"What is that?" Hermione asked, still peeking over his shoulder and looking curiously at the drawing that took up at least half of the page Harry had stopped at.

It was…strange. The thing in the drawing was not particularly beautiful, or at least not quite as beautiful as many other things, but still held some sort of charm that – even in a black ink drawing – made it look extremely attractive to Harry.

It was some sort of fashion accessory, either a bracelet or anklet of some sort, filled with strange little pictures and symbols and a very beautiful snake going around the whole thing, its head meeting its tail at some point and coiling together; hanging from it was another piece, sharp, pointy and triangle-like, sort of like a pendant. All in all, interesting, but not quite enough to explain the sudden fascination Harry found in it.

"Look! It says that's Slytherin's bracelet!" Hermione's excited exclamation startled Harry, especially as it came from right by his ear.

Shaken out of his bracelet-caused stupor, the green-eyed teen turned his attention to the words in the page instead of the drawing. Indeed, in it Regulus spoke of a bracelet supposedly belonging to Salazar Slytherin.

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_I though the one I got was the only one, never even considered anyone, not even Him, would be desperate enough to make more than one. I think I was wrong now. Someone like the Dark Lord would not be comfortable with only one of anything, and certainly not something as grand and deranged as this._

_I have spent hours thinking and researching, trying to find out what else he might have tainted as he did that cursed locket, knowing that my time is limited. _

_The library my family so prides itself in was of extreme help. In one of our most ancient and valued tomes there was a mention of an ancient artifact belonging to Salazar Slytherin himself, just like the locket I am now planning to find and destroy. The book mentions that the bracelet is protected by a multitude of charms and curses so that no one but that whom it belongs to will ever be able to wear it, meaning that no one but the Dark Lord might even be able to touch it, as he is the rightful heir of Slytherin._

_I believe that, if anything, that bracelet is sure to be another of those, but I know that unlike the locket, I will not be able to retrieve it. There are no mentions in any of the vast literature I have at hand as of the bracelet's location and I know that the Dark Lord will never reveal it to me or anyone else. As such, I leave behind this writings, hoping that someday my brother might find them and, being the foolish and brave Gryffindor he is, can somehow finish my work._

_R.A.B._

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"Okay" Ron said, after a rather shocked silence that the three had shared. "Now we know what another might be, we just have to find it even though no one but You-Know-Who knows where it is. Bloody brilliant" The redhead spit sarcastically.

Harry completely agreed.

Finding this bracelet would be very hard, if possible at all, but he was going to try his hardest at it. Of course, he was trying to convince himself that his determination to find the blasted thing was because of the possibility of it being a Horcrux and not because he just had the strangest urge to hold it in his hands and put on his wrist. He was failing rather miserably too.

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**Author's Notes:** Okay and here's chapter two! It's a bit short, but I'm building the suspense XD

Don't worry though, the plot advances considerably next chapter so it's probably going to be quite a bit longer ^^U

Also, thank you very much for the reviews! ^_^

**Yoruko Rhapsodos**: Hope this chapter gives you a few more clues as to whether your guesses were close, somewhat right or absolutely right XD

**Catzi**: Yes, that would be a correct assumption ^_- I'm not sure how it might turn out in the end, as I'm not used to this pairing but I think it will work out XD

**aliengirlguy****:** Thanks for the review! I'm glad you're liking the story so far ^_^


	3. Steal it Back

**Stolen Lives**

**Summary:** During his search for the Dark Lord's Horcruxes, Harry finds something else, something with the potential to become either a great asset or a great threat. Ancient Spirits, Forgotten History, Shadow Magic and an all about crazy twist to his life is what this young wizard will have to deal with. Slash. Rated for Violence.

Chapter 3: _Steal it Back_

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Life kept going on, the clock kept ticking, the Earth kept spinning and Harry Potter kept obsessing over some ancient piece of gaudy jewelry.

The young wizard had by now lost count of how many times Hermione had asked him to drop Regulus' journal and focus on the more important things like, say, recovering the locket. After finding no clue in the journal as to the locket's location, Harry had stopped fighting the idea and finally brought himself to ask Kreacher.

What had followed was a very interesting if tragic story about the elf's master sacrificing his life to obtain the Horcrux and leaving the elf the order to destroy the blasted thing. Of course Horcruxes were very resilient things and it appeared they were elf-magic-proof as well, so Kreacher had not been able to do away with the thing and had kept it hidden in Grimauld Place, the same house they were now staying at. Since nothing could ever be quite so simple for Harry, the Horcrux was obviously not there now, having been stolen by – surprise, surprise – Mundungus Fletcher.

After being questioned – and 'tortured' by a slightly deranged house-elf – Dung had finally confessed that he had indeed stolen the locket but – Potter luck true to the end – he didn't have it in his possession anymore as it had been taken by none other than Dolores Umbridge, who was now back to working at the Ministry.

The whole thing was enough to give Harry a serious headache and make him curse more gods than he knew the name of. Of course, it certainly hadn't helped that he had so far been unable to concentrate properly on things, feeling anxious all the time and hardly able to stay still. It was a strange feeling, like something compelled him to go somewhere, but he didn't know where to so he just kept moving in his place or sometimes pacing the room like a caged lion – no pun intended.

After a couple of days, Hermione – who seemed to be the brains behind the whole operation, for obvious reasons – had finally given up on him and assigned him watch duty to try and keep him entertained for a while. Watch duty was part of their plan to recover the locket and consisted on hiding under the invisibility cloak and observing Ministry workers, trying to come up with the safest possible way to go in, steal the locker from Umbridge's office and go back out unnoticed.

It was precisely as he sat there, bored out his mind as he saw the hundredth person go into the public bathrooms and not come out, that a sudden idea…no, a sudden sure _knowledge_, came to his mind. It was sort of a gut feeling, the kind that had been saving his life almost continuously since he was eleven years old, and the kind he was used to listening by now.

He knew he felt a strange pull whenever he saw the bracelet's drawing in that old journal and he had been having the feeling for days now that he had felt that same pull some other time before, but he could never quite remember when. Apparently, dull and boring moments in life work surprisingly well in bringing back old and half-faded memories because now he could finally recall.

It really was no wonder that he hadn't been able to remember before, as it had happened years ago, back in his fourth year. Of course, so much had happened in his fourth year that a little thing like some unknown pull at his mind could be easily overlooked; especially as it had happened the very night of Voldemort's resurrection. Being as he had been much too busy trying to keep a back-from-the-dead Dark Lord from murdering him in cold blood, he had hardly paid attention to the strange feeling of something calling at him, and by the time he was safe and sound again it had been pushed out of his mind.

Now though, that he was experiencing the same thing whenever he looked at the picture in that old journal, he knew that it was an identical feeling and to him that sounded like a lead to finding the bracelet. And now that he was entertaining the idea, it did make a lot of sense if he'd felt the bracelet – how does one feel a _pull_ from a fashion accessory, anyways? – back in that graveyard if it was indeed another Horcrux. Maybe Voldemort had had it with him back then or maybe…

The teen almost bolted out of his seat as the idea hit him, sudden and obvious. _'Maybe it wasn't in the graveyard, but the house near it'._

It would make a lot of sense too, because Dumbledore had mentioned something about Voldemort leaving his Horcruxes in places that had some significance to him, and some link to his past. That mansion was where he had murdered his muggle family, where Voldemort saw himself as overcoming his dirty lineage and 'purifying' his blood by getting rid of the Riddles. To Harry that sounded a lot like a good place to hide a Horcrux and being that Harry shared a link with the Dark Lord, he considered himself expert enough in the matter of Voldemort to be right.

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His friends had unfortunately not shared his enthusiasm over his findings – also considered crazy ideas by many – and were very reluctant – read: skeptic – over the whole thing.

"Well, what else are we going to do in the meantime?"Harry asked, his voice slightly raised and practically screaming exasperation. Obviously they had been over this quite a few times already.

"We already know where one is, let's get that one first before running after another one" Ron answered, surprisingly level-headed for once.

"He's right, Harry. We don't even know if that bracelet is a Horcrux so we should focus on the locket and…"

"And what?" Harry asked, now annoyed enough to interrupt Hermione before she even finished repeating what she'd been telling him since he first proposed the idea of going after the bracelet. "We already know everything we can find out about going into the Ministry and the Polyjuice Potion we need is not going to be finished for another week"* He said, his voice slowly coming back to a level that could be considered civil before the green-eyed teen sighed, calmer now. "Face it, Mione, we're just sitting around doing nothing, might as well use the time we have"

At his words the other two went quiet and seemed to be at the very least considering his idea. Using the opportunity Harry decided to make the deal sweeter while he could and before either of his friends had the chance to come up with another reason not to just do it.

"After all, the sooner we're done, the sooner the war ends and the less people who die or get hurt." Oh, he felt horrible for saying it like that, knowing that there was no way his friends would be able to deny that, but he just had to get to that bracelet. To destroy it, of course…_of course._

"Alright" Hermione finally gave up with a sigh. "So, you are the only one out of us who's ever been to that place so you're going to have to side-along apparate us there and then…"

And finally, the plan was coming together and he could almost feel the bracelet around his wrist now. Strange, since he had no knowledge of what material it was made of, or its size or even its weight and still, there was the phantom feeling of metal caressing his skin and fitting as though tailored around his wrist. Strange, but Harry was more than willing to let it go for now, focusing instead on the planning and plotting.

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In the end, the plan turned out to be the simple good ol' sneaking around, of which the three of them had had plenty of practice during their tenure at Hogwarts. Harry indeed apparated the other two along, but as he'd never been in the house – and he didn't think seeing it in a Voldemort-induced vision counted enough to risk apparating – they started their trek at the graveyard, hidden beneath the relative security of his invisibility cloak.

Harry could not help the shudders that ran through his body every once in a while as he and his friends walked through the crumbling headstones and overgrown lawn, his overactive mind bringing forth the memories of that night that literally changed his life – and everyone else's. However it seemed that his determination to see this through – and see his bracelet! – was more than enough to help him overcome the shadows of the past, plus the fact that Harry was a naturally brave person, extremely so if past adventures were any proof.

Finally, the three reached the mansion and pulled off the cloak that was now barely able to cover the three grown teenagers as it had when they were children. Harry motioned the other two quiet and pulled out his wand, quickly casting the '_alohomora'_ charm that Hermione had taught him back in first year and opening the old oak door.

The inside of Riddle manor was decidedly creepy, its furniture practically crumbling and, if the several cracks running through the walls and roof were any clue, so was the building itself. Practically every inch of the interior was covered by a layer, or three, of dust, with more than the occasional cobweb adorning corners and roofs. It wasn't a pretty sight at all, but Harry knew they were in the right place, he could _feel_ it.

Unfortunately, they weren't alone at the manor for very long. What the three of them had not counted on – and Harry would later beat himself over since it was so very obvious – was that the Dark Lord wasn't stupid enough to leave the place completely unguarded. It was perhaps that Voldemort was counting on Harry telling someone about the manor having been used by him before, or that the boy would consider the possibility that it was still being used as headquarters and get it into his Gryffindor head to attack the place in some brave heroic nonsense. Whatever the reason, the fact was that there were alarm wards placed on the ancient house, and they had been breached.

Now, as the name states, what an alarm ward does is send a signal to a particular person, or group of people, it was anchored to and let them know that whatever they had warded was in danger, remarkably similar to a muggle silent alarm system with the only difference being a much faster, and in this case much more violent, reaction.

The three teens had barely made it past the living room, Harry guiding the other two still skeptic friends, when the sound of several apparitions broke through the eerie silence in the manor. The young heroes didn't even have to look before knowing that these newcomers were hostile, probably due to the bunch of brightly-colored beams of light that were shot at them. The reaction was immediate.

They formed a circle facing their enemies and protecting each other's back at the same time, but their tight formation also made them a much easier target. They traded curses and jinxes with the masked death eaters, a _reducto_ here, an _incarcerous_ there and a good bunch of _stupefy_'s to try and overcome their enemy.

The death eaters, however, weren't quite as easy to defeat as the Gryffindors were hoping for and gave off as good as they got, or much worse actually. They answered the relatively innocent fire of the three teens with cutting curses, burning hexes, Harry though he even saw a blood-boiling curse fly somewhere past his ear, and the ever-present killing curse; so even if the teens were hit just once, it was sure to put them down for a very long while if not permanently.

The situation was getting desperate, magic flying everywhere and connecting with either shied spells or the already weak structure of the house, people screaming incantations or orders and warnings, pieces of roof and broken furniture flying everywhere like some bizarre rain of debris, and Harry could swear he almost felt Death itself coming for them, the atmosphere suddenly heavy and tense even amidst the chaos of battle.

And that's when he felt _it_. Its call was louder than the shouts of anger, or pain, or desperation, and its magic was stronger than the multitude of spells that danced dangerously around him. It captivated him at the same time it scared him, but he could not ignore it, could not deny it. The young wizard didn't even pay attention as Ron desperately held on to him and yelled at him to come back, to not go on his own, that separating was too dangerous and he could die. But he couldn't hear Ron's voice, or Hermione's pleas to stop, he could not even hear his own thoughts.

He ran, with a speed and determination he was sure he had never achieved before in his life, with spells brushing against his skin and Death licking at his heels, but he kept on running. Three of the five death eaters followed after him, tearing from room to room and then up the stairs with broken steps as they tried vainly to catch the ever elusive Boy-Who-Lived. But Harry wouldn't be caught; he couldn't be caught, not now that he was oh-so very close.

He went into some apparently random room, knocking the weakened wooden door down with one shoulder and leaping towards a very old chest that sat innocently right in the center of the room. The death eaters had caught up with him by now, as the impact with the door had slowed him down a couple of precious seconds, and he could feel one grabbing on to the back of his shirt, but he would not give up.

He kept moving forwards, dragging the still clinging death eater with him and causing the two to fall right on top of the chest. The wooden structure was not strong enough to hold the weight of two men impacting on it all of the sudden and broke down like a house of cards blow by the wind. Harry had ended up under the death eater, whose weight and size was greater than his own and so was holding him down effortlessly, and he had lost his wand in the fall.

All in all, helpless situation.

"Grab him and we'll take him to the Dark Lord" the other death eater said, the one who was now standing by the door and still pointing his wand towards the incapacitated teenager.

"We're gonna be rewarded for this" the one sitting on top of Harry said with a sneer, and you could practically feel the greed and sick triumph radiate off him.

"Get off me!" Exclaimed the still trapped teenager furiously, struggling with the same ferocity his house mascot would have displayed but sadly having the same results a newborn kitten would have.

It was a stroke of luck, the kind of luck which you are never sure is good or bad – Potter luck indeed – that made Harry's hand brush with something not wooden or broken as he fought with his captor. It was metal, cold but warm and so painfully familiar that the feeling made him loose his breath and freeze.

The death eater seemed to think that he had finally given up and slacked his hold on the younger wizard only the smallest bit, but it was enough. Quick as a striking snake, Harry's hand moved towards the metal thing and grasped it tightly, apparently unwilling to ever let go of it. As he dug the thing out of the pile of splinters that was the remains of the broken chest, he only had the briefest of seconds to notice that it was his bracelet – at last! – before everything went black.

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**Author's Notes:** Cliffhanger! Though I'm sure we all know what's gonna happen next XD

Longest chapter yet for this story! ^-^ I felt like I might have been rushing it a bit in this one, but I didn't want to write five chapters of Harry moping around and obsessing over the bracelet while trying to find clues about its location so yeah…and besides, this is only were the real important parts of the story will begin ^_^

Thank you guys for the reviews! ^_^

**Yoruko Rhapsodos:** Well, it might have belonged to him or might not have belonged to him at all ^_- wizards seem to have this obsession with relating anything with snakes to Slytherin though, even if snakes existed long before the man. You'll find out for sure in the next chapter though ^-^

**Sweet-little-Yugi:** Ah! Thank you for that, I always mix those two up even though I told myself I would be careful with that confusion this time :P Sorry about that, I've fixed it now ^-^

**DemonKittyAngel:** That's okay, everyone is entitled to have their favorite pairing ^_^ When on a strictly YGO fic, I'm actually quite a fan of Tendershipping myself XD

**aliengirlguy:** Oh, the interesting is just about to begin XD


	4. Stolen Self

**Stolen Lives**

**Summary:** During his search for the Dark Lord's Horcruxes, Harry finds something else, something with the potential to become either a great asset or a great threat. Ancient Spirits, Forgotten History, Shadow Magic and an all about crazy twist to his life is what this young wizard will have to deal with. Slash. Rated for Violence.

Chapter 4: _Stolen Self_

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Alford Jaxon was not what you would call a very lucky man. He was from a small family – pureblooded of course – whose fortune had dwindled in the last generations until, when Alford himself was born, they had only enough to pretend not to be poor. He was an average wizard at best, having achieved P's mostly and an EE **[1]** at best during his years at Hogwarts.

Joining the Death Eaters was to Alford his very best – and probably very last – chance at making something of himself. If he proved himself and did something useful, he knew the Dark Lord would reward him and he would regain the respect his family had been losing for decades.

To Alford Jaxon, catching Harry Potter was his ticket to fame and fortune.

When the wards around the Riddle Mansion were triggered Alford was one of the Death Eaters immediately alerted. He apparated into the premises along with a group of his colleagues and soon enough found himself battling Britain's Number One Public Enemy and his accomplices. When their main target got separated from his friends and tried to bolt, Alford was one of those to follow.

He and Stevens – another Death Eaters Alford had known for only a couple of years – chased the Boy-Who-Lived all the way to the next floor, almost breaking their necks when climbing the rickety stairs. When the boy crashed against the door in one of the many abandoned rooms, it was Alford's luck that he was the nearest and so the one to catch the fugitive.

It wasn't good luck.

Alford tackled the boy down and the two of them crashed against the floor, breaking something in their fall. Alford used his greater mass and weight to pin his captive, making sure there was no way the teen could get away (Harry Potter's unbelievable record in evading capture and escaping it was enough to make Alford careful).

"Grab him and we'll take him to the Dark Lord" Stevens said from his place in the doorway. Alford didn't say it but he had no intentions of sharing the credit with him, there would be no _we_ when the Boy-Who-Lived was finally delivered to the Dark Lord.

"We're gonna be rewarded for this" Alford's words betrayed his greed, but he could simply not help himself from imagining the way his life would change, how he would be regarded as the Dark Lord's best, how said Dark Lord would repay his loyalty and his skill. Life was good.

"Get off me!" The boy was shouting and struggling, trying futilely to throw Alford off.

The Death Eater was just about to request that Stevens stun his prey when said prey went all still and limp. For a moment, Alford thought that the foolish boy had finally given up and realized the utter helplessness of his situation. In his mind, Alford was crowing with triumph.

It didn't last long.

After a couple of second of complete immobility, the boy suddenly stiffened, his muscles all tensed as though ready to once again bolt. Alford wasn't overly worried, there was no way a skinny, week little half-blood like Harry Potter could possibly outmatch him. That is until the boy spoke.

"If I were you, I'd get the hell away from me. If you want to live that is, I'm not particularly concerned if you don't." The voice was still Harry Potter's, the same Alford had heard just a minute ago, full of bravado as he demanded to be freed. It was different too, all ice and rage and razor-edged knives.

Alford was a Death Eater, he had killed people, tortured others and even been in the presence of the most dangerous Dark Lord in history. But nothing unnerved him as much as the sudden change in Harry Potter. He shuddered. If it wasn't because all his dreams of a brighter future depended on this capture, Alford would more than happily have apparated as far away from this place as possible.

"Shut up or you get a Killing Curse to the face!" Stevens, who was far enough away not to feel the sudden drop in temperature that seemed to come from the boy himself, was not at all affected by the boy's sudden change of demeanor.

A chuckle came from their 'victim'. "Oh, like you would dare. He wants to kills us himself, you do that and you might as well hang yourself, it'd be less painful too."

Alford had had enough of being intimidated by a seventeen-year old. He gathered all the courage he had – not a lot, but when bolstered by greed and rage it amounted to something a bit more worthwhile – and dragged himself and the boy up. He could see the kid's wand lying on the other side of the room, so he didn't bother to magically restrain him; it would be unnecessary and it might suggest that he was scared of the boy, which he wasn't.

He should have been.

The boy turned his head to gaze at his captors and both of said captors were rendered speechless at the sight. Harry Potter's usually bright emerald-green eyes had turned a cold silver-grey that would have put frozen steel to shame. The absolutely devilish smirk on his face only helped to accentuate the image of a terrifying predator.

Alford shuddered again, much more violently than last time, and he could practically _feel_ Stevens tremble and gulp.

"So…" The teen said, sounding about as concerned as a man currently vacationing on a private sunny beach somewhere. "How will it be? Are you going to be good little scardy minions and scurry away now, or are we going to have to _play rough_?" He paused there, throwing his head back and laughing delightedly. "Oh, please give me a reason. It's been so very long since I last had playthings."

Alford was a greedy, vicious murdered who had until now believed he had sold his soul and services to the devil.

Turns out he hadn't meet the devil yet.

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He was _free_. After so very many, many years – millennia! – in the cold and the dark, he was once again walking the world, alive and all. Oh, he was feeling good enough to laugh!

And, to top things off, he had a couple of brainless morons to play with. He couldn't possibly have planned this better himself. He could feel his face splitting into that smirk that had sent men cowering back in the old days. Oh, he was going to have so much fun.

"J-just stun him or something! Quickly before the others get here and try to take him themselves!" Stupid moron #1 – also known as the idiot who had pinned him to the ground – said, clearly nervous but trying to put on a brave face. That was alright with him, he loved watching all that fake courage crumble to dust and be replaced by senseless fear. It was amusing.

"Very well then, its Game Time so let's _play._" As soon as he said the words he felt the familiar and almost comforting rush of cold dark power flooding him. He could sense – and see, if he paid attention – the dark shapes of nameless shadows gathering around them, enveloping them all.

It took only a couple of seconds for there to be only endless darkness in the room. The Shadows swallowed them all, though they were waiting to see who would be devoured.

"What's he doing?! Make him stop!" Stupid moron #2 was yelling in fright, clutching his wand as though it were the only thing keeping him alive. He almost snorted in amusement.

"He hasn't got his wand! I don't know how he's doing it!" Moron #1 was looking around in a panic, occasionally trembling too. "Stop it! Stop it now or I'll kill ya!" The Death Eater – and wasn't that a funny name? – started shaking him, trying to force him to comply with his stupid demands.

The world suddenly seemed to blink, everything fell into complete darkness and the two idiots screamed as they suddenly found that they couldn't see so much as their own noses. It was over almost instantaneously, the odd, source-less grey light that the Shadows provided flooded the room, making it still dark but at least visible.

Morons #1 and #2 found themselves in a completely different position, facing each other as they each held the end of a black rope, at the center of which a dark-haired, green-eyed little doll was tied by its arms. They both blinked, completely taken aback by the sudden and unexpected change. He could see one of them about to leap back and away from the rope, so he interrupted.

"I wouldn't let go of that if I were you, it is after all your last chance." He sounded unconcerned, amused and completely at ease in the sea of darkness.

"C-chance f-f-for what?" Moron #1's voice was hopeful – and very much scared, but that was a given. He seemed to have caught on to the fact that he didn't have the power in this place, he couldn't make demands and the best he could hope for was a hint of mercy from their prey-turned-predator.

"To win." He paused there for dramatic effect, letting the words sink in before he continued. "Not just your freedom and lives, but your prize as well. You see that doll there? That represent that which you came here to get. It's a very simple game, tug-o-war I believe you call it. There is a red line in the middle, you have to pull and whichever one of you pulls the entire doll behind your end of the line wins. Whoever wins gets to bring Harry Potter to the Dark Lord, riches and recognition and all that rot. He also gets to leave this place, unhindered in any and all ways."

He saw the moment the realization came to both of them, as they turned and met gazes before glancing at the doll hanging innocently between them. Almost at the exact same time, the two men started to pull using all their weight and strength to try and win. The doll went this-side-and-that for a couple of minutes as both men tugged at it. He could see sweat running down their foreheads, their clenched teeth and the quivering of their muscles as they literally fought for their lives.

And then it happened.

Time seemed to slow down, almost stop, as a surprisingly loud ripping noise filled the room. Both Death Eaters' eyes widened in shock and horrified surprise as they saw the doll slowly but surely be torn apart. The sudden release of tension in the rope sent them both down on their arses.

He chuckled, a sound both dark and smooth that echoed around them ominously. "Ooops. Seems like neither of you can get the _entire_ doll now. I guess that means you lose." His smirk was all white teeth gleaming in the darkness.

The looks of horror on their faces were almost identical, wide eyes full of panic, slack jaws and trembling facial muscles. Oh, yeah, they knew – they could _feel_ – what was coming. The Shadows started to stir excitedly, inching closer and closer to the terrified men who had been offered to them.

"Sorry gents, but losers stay."

The Shadows leapt.

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Battling Death Eaters was, if certainly not easy, then at least familiar for Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. After Harry broke away from their little formation – and Hermione was going to make him regret doing such a stupid, foolish, reckless thing later – the Death Eaters' number dwindled from five to three as two of them went after their friend.

It made their chances of getting out of this alive a bit better, as proven when a very well-aimed blasting curse brought down part of the ceiling and almost crushed their attackers. It distracted them enough for the two teens to hit them with stunners. Almost as soon as their enemies were brought down, the two leapt away from the disaster zone and towards the stairs, determined to make it to their friend's aid.

The stair groaned ominously as the two of them hurried to climb them, but they paid no mind and kept going. Once in the upper floor, it took them a couple of minutes to find the right room – the broken down door being a pretty big clue about which room Harry and his pursuers had gone into.

It took them almost as long to come to terms with the sight that greeted them inside said room.

Harry was standing there, alone, his back to the door and apparently dusting himself off and completely unconcerned. His pursuers were nowhere to be seen, but there was evidence – footprints in the very dusty floor and broken pieces of wood scattered all over – that there had been a scuffle.

"Harry…?" Hermione tentatively approached him, her hand extended towards his shoulder.

Then he turned around and she couldn't help but gasp. '_His eyes…_'

He smirked and now both Hermione and Ron gasped. "Sorry, Harry isn't available at the moment, would you like to leave a message?"

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**Author's Notes:** Hello everyone! I'm back again! :D

Took me long enough, I know, but my muse had completely and utterly deserted me . She's still struggling to come back but I have high hopes for her ^_^

**[1]** For the grading system at Hogwarts [highest to lowest]: O – Outstanding. EE – Exceeds Expectations. A – Acceptable. P – Poor. T – Troll.


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